He’d been obsessed, fittingly or perhaps ironically so given his name, ever since he saw them in fourth year during the Triwizard Tournament; no one else, not his friends or family, ever knew because he knew Malfoys weren’t supposed to get involved in anything so mundane or dangerous as dealing with magical creatures, but he just couldn’t help wanting.

After the war, he had to restart his life and find some sort of direction, something away from the shame and fear that had become his entire state of being the past few years, and the only thing he could imagine doing was following his dream; it wasn’t like the Malfoy name mattered much anymore, and a chance to leave the country and start something with something entirely new sounded like the best possible option.

He arrived at the Romanian dragon reserve, where no one knew or cared who he was, as a rookie dragon trainer with a lighter heart than he’d had perhaps ever in his life; this was what he wanted, this was what he needed, this was what he’d been dreaming of for years.